


The L Word

by williamastankova



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale sees how Crowley feels, Blah blah blah commentary, Body Swap, Enjoy!, First Kiss, Fluff, Holding Hands, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Reading, Requited Love, Sort Of, Surprise Kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, amen, cheek kiss, does that even have a name, tags tags tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 07:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: Their body swap gives Aziraphale some insight into how Crowley truly feels about him.





	The L Word

It's essential. There's no other way about it - believe that much, because if there was literally any other way, Crowley would have found and employed it. He'd pondered upon it, but the only way they'd free themselves from the hold heaven and hell had on them was to swap bodies and scare them so much they'd never seek them out again.

So, after mutually agreeing it was the right thing to do, they shook hands and it began. They began to transfer their beings into the other's vessel, becoming each other, passing one another in the process, somewhere in the region of their wrists. Then, in an instant, Crowley was sat looking at himself, who was blinking, obviously trying to regain composure.

"Oh, dear Lord," Aziraphale-as-him said as he began to adjust to Crowley's body. The demon winced, though he hoped Aziraphale wouldn't notice, because he feared his worst nightmare was coming true.

Now, if you want an explanation, it's rather simple, and yet the most complex thing Crowley's dealt with since his creation. It's his internal battle, the one he's been waging for six thousand years. Since the cursed-blessed day he met Aziraphale in Eden, he's wanted to tell the angel. There's so much he wants to say, and yet he has no words.

As he looks on at himself-who-is-Aziraphale (he can already feel this getting confusing), wondering if Aziraphale's accessed those thoughts already. In a sense, it'd be best that way, with Aziraphale finding out Crowley loves him by actually being in his body. That way, he can feel exactly how Crowley feels when he sees him, the pain of losing him and the joy of rediscovering him and rekindling their friendship.

He fears the worst and yet hopes for the best. He's always been an pessimistic optimist, hoping for the best but never actually expecting it. The worst thing that could happen is Aziraphale completely and utterly rejects him, and once they're free of both heaven and hell he'll never speak to him again. The best thing that could happen is... well, anything else.

Aziraphale-not-Aziraphale's face scrunches momentarily, adjusting to the new features on it. He shifts in his seat, and all the while Crowley-not-Crowley waits, looking on, waiting to see what happens with baited breath. It seems like an eternity before Aziraphale looks at him again, and when he does he's certain his heart stops.

He can't see Aziraphale's expression in his eyes, which are now hidden behind his dark glasses. He can't gauge his reaction, can only sit there and hope for the best (or at least not the worst). In the process of doing so, however, a thought registers in his racing mind, and it seems like the world begins to still until it's completely frozen.

As Aziraphale's been experiencing his normal emotions, he's been experiencing Aziraphale's. He takes a moment, just a silent second, to reach deep within himself, and finds something wholly unexpected. There, in the very core of Aziraphale's chest, he finds... love.

It's an all too familiar sensation. It buds in his chest, spreading throughout his entire body as he looks over at himself. Could it be... surely not. No, there's simply no way. It has to be something to do with his own feelings, he must be projecting onto Aziraphale. There's no chance that the angel feels the same way he does, after all this time... neither of them have said anything.

He doesn't question it, doesn't want to bring it up in case he's wrong. He simply gets on with the plan - both of them do - and, in less time than either of them had anticipated, it's all over. They've managed to fool the heavens and pits of hell themselves, which leaves them with no expectation of what to do for the rest of eternity.

They sit on the bench, as they did just mere days before. They take in their surroundings for a moment and then, when the park falls quiet, they exchange a glance. No words need be spoken as they both automatically extend their arms, interlock their hands and the penniless transaction begins.

It takes a short while, but eventually he's back in his own body. There, as he looks over at Aziraphale, he feels the same. He feels the blossoming love in his chest, the feeling he's tried so very hard to subdue and suppress for so very long, now flourishing freely, warming him from the inside out. He dares not look for too long, and yet he can't move his eyes, which have glued themselves to the angel's sweet face and wild sprouts of blonde hair.

He wills it to disappear. It only inconveniences him, plagues him with thoughts and daydreams of what cannot be. It forces him to watch Aziraphale with such intent and heat of a lover, only to make him become a coward any time he has the opportunity to change their status. It makes him afraid, eats away at him, and refuses to leave him alone at all times - and at all costs.

"Well, then," he finally pipes up, placing his hands on his legs and making to stand, offering Aziraphale the chance to do the same. "Let's get going, shall we? Wouldn't want to keep our places at the Ritz waiting."

Aziraphale considers it for a moment, looks like he's about to stand and follow, but something stops him. A thought crosses his mind, a pensive look spreads across his face. He looks up at Crowley as though he hardly recognises him, and just when Crowley thinks something's gone wrong on the angel's end during the body swap, he speaks.

"Are you in love with me, Crowley?"

He doesn't look nor sound accusatory. He merely sounds inquisitive, like he sincerely wants to know, research for research's sake. Even so, Crowley's body shuts down. He begins to splutter, preparing to launch himself into his seventeenth fit of denial this milennia, but stops himself at the very last moment. He closes his mouth, breathes deeply, and accepts that this is it.

"Yeah, looks like it, doesn't it?" is all he can say, borderline whispering the words, like he's afraid they'll eat him alive. His breath all coagulates in his chest, making him feel like he's choking as he waits for Aziraphale's response.

"Oh," Aziraphale says, face seeming to relax, "Oh, good. Thank God."

Crowley's ears do a funny thing that make everything sound like he's underwater, submerged, about to drown. His chest matches this feeling: heavy, like it's about to collapse inwards with external pressure. "Good?"

"Yes, good," Aziraphale smiles brightly at him like he's swallowed the sun and finally rises, moving to stand before him. "Because, without all of the eloquent words, I love you, too."

Crowley thinks he's going to implode. Like some great big black hole, he's going to go in on himself, dragging Aziraphale and the rest of humanity with him. He's going to ruin this moment somehow, he's going to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. He's going to misinterpret Aziraphale, going to take his words wrong, going to-

Aziraphale short-circuits his brain by leaning over and planting a kiss onto his cheek. It's sweet, almost chaste, yet not something that could be misconstrued at all. He's certain he knows what Aziraphale means by this: it's his declaration of 'you're my love', 'I shouldn't love you but I do', and 'don't overthink and combust, please; I rather like you as you are'.

When the angel pulls back, it seems his smile has gotten impossibly wider. Crowley joins him in this, his own face cracking into a great big grin. He can't contain himself, pouring out six thousand years of repressed emotion into this one action. He can't believe his luck, and there's still some part of him that thinks Aziraphale's going to slip away into thin air and this'll all be revealed to be a dream.

That doesn't happen, though. Not as they look at each other, not as he slips his fingers into Aziraphale's. Not as they begin their leisurely walk towards the Ritz, and not even after that. Aziraphale, it seems, is here to stay, and Crowley's grateful - for the first time in his life - to have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Leave any comments/thoughts/points for discussion below. I love reading them!


End file.
